hi america, it's me. tony! hi! yes, i know that more than america reads this crazy little page but i guess i'm just happy to be in america. the beautiful. the wonderful. the muggy. the uptight. the airport-freaked-out.

this morning i woke up in a tropical paradise, this afternoon i write you from the luxury of a swivel leather chair from the admiral's club in the american airlines wing of miami international where they dont have any free snacks but they have $3.25 sam adams's and cute little ibm computers for those of us without laptops.

hi!

have you missed me? doubt it. ive missed you. ive missed writing. ive missed being narcisistic and pondering my bellybutton. ive missed typing and typing and writing and writing and having some closet queen tell me that i misspelled something. ive missed a lot but most of all ive missed you, sweet blog.

i've missed you too, tony

everyone told me to have a good time in aruba and for the most part i did. i learned about a lot of things: about our bodies, our selves, about relaxation, and family, about babies and grandparents, aging, death, sex, pinball.

mostly ive learned what i already known, im not someone who can really appreciate a beach side cabana unless its shared with a seniorita who thinks im top of the pops. dont get me wrong, there is something to be said of dark brown skinned sisters who try to outdo themselves to the latest dance crazes and theres something to be said about watercolor worthy sunsets and bottomless margueritas, and there is certainly something to be said about nearly-passed out pot-pushers who lean against a shack and proudly proclaim, "marijuana, hash, exctasy. i am a drug dealer!" as your mother and your sister and your brother in law look away and try to ignore the dreadlocked fellow. but there needs to be said something more about relaxation.

i completely relaxed for about 25 minutes the whole trip.

i read about 50 pages of the highly recommended "white oleander".

i watched about 5 hours of television, and only fiddled on the internet for about 65 minutes. i drank, i didnt smoke, i lusted, i didnt fornicate. i did all the things that i figured i would do, except one thing: i didnt kiss an aruban girl.

they were all too young.

this happened to me a long time ago in san felipe in mexico in '98. me and my pals joe and mike roadtripped down there and the only attractive women were married or had children under their arms. in situations like those you lower your requirements and you look at a 16 year old girl and you try to rationalize and then you shake your head and get back with the program.

there were pretty girls on the island, dont get me wrong, but they were on their honeymoons. or they were in high school. or they were trying to compete with their sisters. it was all very confusing.

food also confused me. the older i get the more people want to educate me about what i eat. i dont like this. i dont think i eat all that much and now that my metabolism is sinking i want to lose the small spare tire that i am developing so people are telling me about the Atkins diet where you dont eat carbs. until this trip i didnt really know what carbs were. turns out carbs are my favorite things to eat. i love bread and pasta and all those things and i refuse to give them up. but then i saw the parade of others who didnt want to give this up or that up on the beach... half dressed... walking with their lovers who have never given up anything and it made me curious.

what would i look like if i even tried to look decent?

i also noticed tattoos. most people have terrible tattoos. most people dont know a good tattoo if it bit them on the ankle, which is what a lot of these peices of permanent art looked like: mistakes, accidents, crap stuck on that should be peeled off because its so out of place and so worthless that the guy who burned it on should be forced to rub it off. it made me happy that i had no tattoo.

finally i considered the hair on the backs of men. (shut up.)

applying the manditory suntan oil i discovered the i had hair on my back. not a lot but some. more than i want. more than i expected. at first i was repulsed. hair! on my back! the sin of all sins, ive been told. but the more i saw others the more i realized that pretty much most men with hair on their fronts have hair on their backs. so i chilled out and had another sip of rum. i worked out three times out of six days. i ran a few miles. i didnt eat too crazy. i danced a little. i swam some. but will i shave my back for a hottie? lets hope not.

all in all it was a splendid adventure on a misfortunate rock in the ocean. one of the least beautiful places with one of the more wonderful beaches you'll ever find.

flying first class the whole way, being stoked with accomidations and extravagances like this "club" that has showers and meeting rooms and kids rooms and computers, is pretty sweet, people. the rich do know how to live. now all i have to find out is why their ATM wont give me $40 so i can get a few more round of drinks.

but no matter. i understand there might be some carbs in my sam adams.

whatev.

its good to be back in the states.

where i belong.

with you.

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final archived entry. end of best of tony pierce, june, 2008.

she said, please don't i just ate a garlic shrimp

i said, baby, i'd kiss you if you just had eight garlic shrimps.

she said, but i just smoked a cigarette.

i said, i'd kiss you if you licked an ashtray.

and what if i just barfed, and you just held my hair?

i said, i'd sniff the tire tracks left by the truck of the janitor that had the luck to mop up your freshly spewed Doritos chunks.

and then i'd kiss you.

would you kiss me if i had a canker sore?

i said, i'd kiss your grandmas canker sore youre so hot. the one on her ass.

what if one of my lips fell off?

i said, i'd kiss your one lipped freak face and find the other and kiss that.

what if i fell into a deep coma for thirty years and woke with the worst morning breath imaginable?

i said, it woulda only been that way cuz id a been kissing you for all those years.

you're fucking gross as hell.

and she left me there with my half empty plastic cup of wine.

p.s. miss you tony

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best of tony pierce. june, 1994.

do people have a hard time accepting Good in their lives?

yes.

do i, sometimes, have a hard time accepting Really Good in my life?

no.

not me.

im perfect.

all i shoot for in life is fun and good.

so why would i avoid it when it comes?

or be freaked by it?

theres no way that i would have a problem with a bucket of moola on my front porch with a note that says "no strings attached" or a brokendown bus of cheerleaders in town for the national poetry convention who need to use a telephone,

or true love

of false love

or true false love

or lust

or flirtation

or the opportunity to make my personal and professional dreams come true.

no, i wouldnt have any problems with any of those things. i would accept it all, take it all in stride, thank the Lord and go to the next step.

i would never dwell.

i do things textbook. perfect. as it should be.

i come correct.

in fact i dont have a personal or psychological stain on my entire soul.

im just like you.

thats why we get along so well.

we know theres no such concept of too much of a good thing.

so if the coppers drag me out again, tonight, after happy hour, remind them who the fuck theyre hasseling, yo.

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hi, my name is tony, and im an internet junkie

here i am in beautiful aruba, land of iguanas, blue seas, white beaches and some of the most overweight tourists in the world and instead of combing the resorts for thong-clad topless european travelers to meet and make up stories about, here i am in an internet cafe writing you.

i just got done gambling and drinking in the Crystal Casino, the island's only twenty four hour gambling den. everyone is very nice to you here. they speak several different languages because no one can make up their mind as to who should own this tropical wonderland.

this afternoon we took the airconditioned bus tour around the island. the whole place is very small so it only took us a few hours to hit all the hot spots. my advice: don't take the tour. stay in the resort, wade in the pool, suck up the drinks and if you get adventurous experience the 80 degree sea and the pearly white sands. theres nothing going on away from the beach except for a goat looking for water to get his beard wet while atop a strange rock formation.

do i love you all? of course.

will i move here one day? never. there truly isn't anything going on here which is why most of the 100k locals dream of moving to the netherlands or holland, whichever will give them a job.

its warm here and its windy. my taxi driver told me that the wind is your friend. if theres no wind you feel the 90 degree temps and you sweat like crazy. with the wind you love where you are and you don't complain.

these are some of the sweetest and smartest people on the planet but i think that they are cruel sometimes. there were native "indians" who once inhabited this isle and to acknowledge them they named the local beer after them. i don't think that's nice since we know how "indians" and alcohol don't mix.

the women are short and dark and sweet and can dance dance dance. they love americans. they love sorta dark americans like me. everywhere i go they say hi to me and wave. my mother rented the most hideous mini van that has a huge rent-a-car sticker on the hood and on the door but still the ladies wave. i was thinking about going to one of the night clubs here and seeing the locals shake their groove thing but they take their dancing very serious here. in february and march, for example, they celebrate Carnival and they dance all day and all night for 10 hours a day for two weeks.

i asked the college girl at the Aloe factory if people show up to work hung over after a night of Carnival and she says the whole island wakes up hung over but they just shake it off and go back to dancing while at work.

why not?

there are palm trees with coconuts. there are parrots, there are lizards, there are europeans who sunbathe with their tops off, there are dogs and chickens and lots of channels on the television.

last night we all watched the Sopranos on HBO and if that isn't your way to vacation, too bad, it's mine.

signing off from Internet Pl@net in the airconditioned glamour of the Crystal Shopping center somewhere in paradise, this is your pal tony reminding you that if you come here bring one bag of cash and another bag of sunscreen.

hasta!

p.s. thanks to my pal who is updating this page with classic posts!!!

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from the blog archives, 1987. best of tony pierce.

anna said, why are you trying to make troubles

i said, aaaah. i aint trying to make no troubles.

she said, all this bs about women writers being crazy.

i said, take it easy. first nothing in here is true.

she said, thats the biggest lie around.

i said, second i didnt even say it, whalen said it. and i dont even know if he believed it when he said it.

she said, well you should stop saying it.

i said, i didnt even say it!

she said, cuz then people will think that you think it's true.

i said, i do think its true, but i never said it.

she said, i dont need you anyway, the lady that they said was me just got several million dollars from penthouse and i'll get mine soon and i didnt even have to pose, and i would appreciate it if you took down that weirdo photo essay that you have of me.

i said, i'd appreciate it if you won a tournament.

she said, id appreciate it if you just shut your big fat mouth.

i said, i know.

she said, what are you doing tonight?

i said, anna, my life is so bizarre, i could be doing a bunch, i could be doing nothing, i really dont have the foggiest. i could walk down the street and meet christina aguelera or i could--

she said, thats not how you spell her name.

i said, i know.

she said, i thought she was on your list.

i said, what list?

she said, everyone has a list of people who they'd do.

i said, do?

she said, yeah, my list is harrison ford, adam sandler, mel gibson, brad pitt, and john cusack.

i said, john cusak?

she said, yeah. now who's on yours?

i said, i dont even

she said, come on its just fun.

i said, ok, you, mariah, madonna, christina aguelera, drew barrymore, and this chick who lives down the street.

she said, thats six you can only have five.

i said, ok, cross your name off the list.

she said, you prick.

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from the blog archives: january, 1974

a gaggle of cheerleaders bum rushed my back door as I was taking out the trash last night to my surprise. they had picnic baskets with tasty foods, thermoses full of tangy fruit drinks and wines, bales of hay and trick ropes for entertainment, and of course pom-poms and silly string and ecstasy and chewing gum.

there were so many of them that it was hard to get anyone's names and im so bad at remembering one or two people's names at a party that this amount was just ridiculous to even attempt so i just smiled and called everyone honey and sweetie and blondie and red. they called me sweetheat and turned down the lights, turned off the tv, turned off the computer, locked the doors and windows, took a wrench to the dripping shower and busted with the whippits.

life is a delicious waltz filled with clutzy gentlemen and the same old friut punch. it takes more, sometimes, than a squirt of lime to get the party started proper and if weren't for the strands of pom poms on the floors and the snoring heaps of blankets snoozing on available floorspace, i would have thought it was all a dream this morning, but isnt everything a dream?

i left a note for the girls on the television wishing them a happy day and to ignore the mess and how to lock up the house but i was late for work and couldnt start the coffee. i hope they understood.

sometimes when youre late the busses and trains will help you out, but not this morning.

my arch enemy, this guy who i hate who rubs me the wrong way was at my bus stop. it's sort of who Brad Pitt was to the guy in Fight Club, his alter-ego. this is my nerdy ego who reminds me of all the nerdy dorky dumb things in my personality that i try to ignore. he's only at my busstop when im late. he is so creepy. so of course he was acting all creepy as i waited and waited in the brisk sun of todays wintery los angeles morn.

the bus arrived packed with late losers alike and we made it more packed. stuffed with humanity the bus rolled on and i wondered how much they paid off the guy to tell the supreme court that the LA bus system was ok and had enough vehicles despite being terribly short for years and years.

got off at the stop, walked the five-six blocks to the job and thought about Welch's fine rememberance of the Daily Nexus and I hope all of you either have a Nexus in your past or are having one now or are about to have one, because it was a spectacular experience.

and just as i thought that, i saw a man naked from the shirt down crouching behind a row of bushes in front of an Office Depot right behind a bus stop bench. he was going number two, i believe. i wondered if he had tp. i wondered if people knew there would be human poop in the bushes as they waited for the number 21. i wondered if even this could dampen my fine spirits.

and i got on the elevator in my place of employment and i sat down at my cubicle and i fired up the machine and i began to type to you.

and i read an email that a young lady wrote to me about how she fantasized about anna and martina in the locker room after their match and my day had officially begun.

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